


these things take forever

by tootsonnewts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Otabek Altin Week 2017, day two: hero of kazakhstan, he's such a good boy, there's a whole heck of a lot of contemplation going on, this one is a big ol' feelings fest y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: Across the years, Otabek’s done his best to figure out who he is and be settled in that knowledge. He’s a son, a brother, a skater, a dj, a friend, and most recently, a hero. A Hero. It’s the only part of himself that he’s unsettled in. It’s the only title he didn’t willingly meet head-on with the same bullish reverence he treated all the rest. It’s the heaviest of all his roles, and it’s one he was never prepared to handle.Otabek Altin Week 2017 - Day Two: Hero of Kazakhstan





	these things take forever

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself these would be short drabbles.  
> here i am lying again.
> 
> fic title is from [first day of my life by bright eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUBYzpCNQ1I).
> 
> i hope you enjoy it!

Across the years, Otabek’s done his best to figure out who he is and be settled in that knowledge. He’s a son, a brother, a skater, a dj, a friend, and most recently, a hero.  _ A Hero _ . It’s the only part of himself that he’s unsettled in. It’s the only title he didn’t willingly meet head-on with the same bullish reverence he treated all the rest. It’s the heaviest of all his roles, and it’s one he was never prepared to handle.

**_They call you the hero because of what you’ve done for them. Not what they expect you to do._ **

Okay, so perhaps the title of hero isn’t exactly his newest. He’s worn it since his teens. The freshest title is that of best friend, boyfriend,  _ lover _ . 

It was a slow slide for Yuri and him. A creeping goal of friendship met over time and then cultivated carefully, like so much rosemary in his mother’s garden. The fortunate thing, he thinks, is that it was never one of those situations where they woke up one day and snap-quick realized the depth of their feelings. Almost immediately, they both knew where they were headed. There just wasn’t a rush to get there. They took their time to get to know each other, to truly appreciate one another, to become solid and honest and supportive. A deep bedrock on which their relationship could be built and stand the test of time.

Even so, Yuri’s steadfast and fierce loyalty and support still shakes him to his core on occasion. He sometimes forgets how it feels to have a single person choose to be there and choose to stay. Spending so much time away stretches the cords of that feeling until it’s a dull ache at the back of his mind, throbbing lowly. Somehow, Yuri always knows when to come along and pluck the strings.

**_They call you hero because that’s what you are to them. I call you hero because that’s what you are to me._ **

He tightens the laces of his sneakers and looks out over the city, breathing in the sharp morning air. This city that he loves so much, this country that thrums through his veins, a shared pulse that carries him through his lowest periods and supports him at his highest. It has competition for space in his heart now, but it will always be his first love. He closes his eyes momentarily and lets out his breath. Then he flies.

His feet carry him down the park stairs, through the streets, into the heart of the city, toward his home rink. The slow rise of the sun follows at his back and it’s moments like these that he feels truly at peace. Relaxed and alive and at home. There’s a small puzzle piece missing, but in time, it will slot into place. If there’s one thing Otabek is good at, it’s patience.

**_You know you’re more than that, though. Right?_ **

He spends the next five hours in the sweaty haze of work. He cuts lines in the ice like the spikes of a heart monitor - sharp, precise, measured. The crack of his skates as he lands each jump breaks new focus into his spine each time he touches ground, like the fracturing of a bone. Small fissures, restitched even stronger, calcified like armor to prepare him for his ultimate test.

**_You are the culmination of everything you’ve ever done. You are the result of hard work, of kindness, of challenges and failures and success._ **

Preparation for something like the Olympics should feel bigger, he thinks. It should feel more life-changing than it does right now. Instead, he goes through his regular motions. He skates, he fights, he wins, he makes mistakes, he adjusts. He makes quick phone calls when he can. He gets quick video messages when there’s time. He wakes up, he works out, he goes home for dinner, rinse, repeat.

They see each other throughout competition season, but it’s small pieces of time. Shards of existence much too small to fuel the fire. Ticking hands of the clock that beat too fast and move forward too quickly. It’s a big year. They both want the same things. They both understand. They’re both yearning and fragile and tired.

But he has more than this to occupy his mind. He has an entire people to represent. He has a nation to make proud. He has to show them that their love, their devotion, their time hasn’t been wasted on him. He has to prove his worth on the largest scale he can. Only after this can he rest. So he continues to push. Competition after competition, blister after blister, missed call after missed call. Moment after moment, pushing him to the end.

**_You are the single greatest person I have met. You are everything to me. I’m so proud of you._ **

They send emails throughout the season. It’s the easiest way to catch up on a huge chunk of missed information and still do what they must. It’s easier than a phone call. You can’t set a call down to attend to something and come back hours later right where you left off. If you can, anyway, they haven’t found a way to do it.

It’s fine, though. With each new letter, another week passes them by. A blurred novel bringing them right to the edge of the moment they’ve both been yearning for. Bringing them right to the place they’ve reached toward for years, fingers outstretched and grazing. Three short days before they can finally rest.

**_You might not believe this. I know you well enough to know you most likely don’t. But I’m never happier than when I see you win. I know you can do it again. If it’s not me, it better be you._ **

They hardly see each other past the opening ceremonies. It’s okay. He knew that’s how it would be. They knew that’s how it would be. It’s still a slow molasses drag, pulling him a little closer to the bottom before he reaches the end.

But he’s ready. He’s honed everything he’s worked so hard to build until it was scalpel-sharp. Precision crafted for excellence. The exact instruments he needs to propel him into history, to propel his country into history. That’s what he set out to do, and he  _ will _ do it.

**_Good luck out there._ **

The first day passes by with ease. He finishes in second to Yuri, but it’s not the short program that matters. They all know that. He reminds himself that the only way he gets to take a step back, the only way he gets to relax, is to tuck that knowledge into his chest and use it as motivation. He has one last thing to do before he can move on to his life at large. One last goal to meet before he can ride off into his proverbial sunset and truly feel like he did his people proud.

So he rests. Then he skates.

**_I love you. More than anything._ **

“Beka, you did it!” 

The shout draws his attention toward the open gate.

Yuri stands at the edge of the rink, a wild smile on his face. His hair is mussed, his Russia team jacket is slightly askew, and he’s bright red - he must’ve run out from the back to watch the skate. For all his unruliness, he still manages to hold the entirety of Otabek’s soul in his hands. Yuri leans across the boards, eyes crinkled in glee, reaching out toward the ice.

“Otabek Altin, the Hero of Kazakhstan, and fuckin’ Olympic gold medal winner!”

Yuri’s fingertips flex, grabbing the empty air in front of him.

Otabek skates forward to collect his prize.

**_More than anything._ **

**Author's Note:**

> FEELINGS.
> 
> as always, you are more than welcome to come request things of me on [tumblr](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/) or shitpost with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/these_mortals).
> 
> have a great day, ily!


End file.
